


we've got you now (and we're never letting go)

by jupiterdream



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Child Neglect, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:47:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24834817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiterdream/pseuds/jupiterdream
Summary: In which the Heyward family files for a foster care license and JJ and John B, two foster kids from the mainland, find a family and home with the least expected people.Because sometimes, home is more than a place. It’s the journey, and the people, and the soft smile on your lips as you realize that you finally,finally, feel safe.
Relationships: JJ & John B. Routledge, JJ & Kiara & Pope & John B. Routledge
Comments: 68
Kudos: 231





	1. The Mainland

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks! 
> 
> This is my first time ever writing fanfiction, and I'm super excited! This idea has been in my head for quite some time now, and I just had to do something with it. The fanfiction in this fandom is actually insane - it absolutely blows my mind how talented some of y'all are. I hope this work can compare. 
> 
> Leave Kudos and comments if the spirit moves you. Constructive criticism, story suggestions, and self-promo are always welcome!

The day that JJ and John B are sent to the Outer Banks for the first time begins terribly. At 8 o’clock in the morning, after a long, sleepless night, the surrogate brothers find themselves sitting in their social worker Jane’s office, the air too humid to breathe and the August sun forcing the teens into tank tops and cargo shorts, despite their best wishes. 

Tank tops do so little to hide the bruising. 

JJ’s heart thrums uncomfortably in his ears, his breathing short and heavy. Every little noise inside of the small, cramped DCS office becomes too much - the jiggling of his social worker’s leg, the broken clock on the wall ticking sporadically to an uneven tempo, the faint buzz of the too-bright fluorescent lights. He scoots his chair impossibly closer to John B, his trembling hand finding its way to the hem of his brother’s shirt, squeezing tight. 

John B replaces JJ’s hold on the fabric with his own clammy hand. He needs the grounding, too. 

“I can assure you boys that you’ll be placed in a safe, happy home to hopefully finish out the rest of high school,” Jane says in that too-soft voice with that too-gentle smile pulling on her lips. At least, that’s what JJ _assumes_ she says, because his heartbeat is still a little too loud in his ears and he’s not really listening but she says the same shit every single time. And every single time, JJ finds himself and John B, his brother in every way but blood, in an _unfit_ home. That’s the word that DCS likes to throw around, he’s noted. He thinks it’s funny that they dance around the big words, like _abuse_ and _neglect_ and _abandonment_. 

_Unfit_ , JJ thinks, describes the whole damn system. 

“There’s a nice family off-shore coming to collect you two this afternoon. From Kildare County. We usually try to keep mainland kids on the mainland but, well, your case is a bit last minute and a bit of an emergency,” Jane continues, poorly hiding her wince. JJ’s head clears marginally when he hears John B’s quiet scoff beside him. It’s a much needed reminder that he isn’t alone. 

JJ doesn’t do _alone_ very well. _Separation anxiety_ and _PTSD_ are more words that the DCS people like to toss around like flower girls do petals at a wedding. Like it’s the weather they’re talking about, and not JJ’s whole fucking life. 

_Unfit, unfit, unfit_. 

“What, um, what’s it gonna be like?” John B tentatively asks, interrupting his train of thought. _It’s probably a good thing_ , a voice in the back of JJ’s mind unhelpfully supplies, and JJ can’t help but agree because John B’s always been good at not letting JJ’s thoughts spiral too far. Even when he doesn’t realize how much he’s helping. _Especially_ when he doesn’t realize how much he’s helping. _It’s ‘cos we’re soul siblings_ , John B had whispered to him one night after JJ ineloquently finished voicing that exact thought. And JJ doesn’t really believe in much, but John B has never lied to him and so JJ holds onto that small sentiment with every single fibre of his being. 

Anyway, he’s glad that John B asks what they should expect, because JJ’s wondering the same thing. Always is. And even though he knows he can’t trust whatever bullshit Jane’s about to spew, he still waits desperately for an answer. 

Because maybe, just maybe, if he wills the universe enough, he’ll actually get what he wants and Jane will finally be right about a foster placement. 

Huge, whopping emphasis on _maybe_. 

“Well, I’m a personal friend of the father. He owns a seafood store on the water, makes a good, honest living for himself,” Jane begins. JJ burrows his eyebrows, and in his peripheral vision, can see John B do the same. 

Who would’ve thought that their social worker was a real person who did real life things and had _friends_?

“He’s got a son your age, too. Amazing father.” Well, that’s a white lie they’ve heard before. Having biological children means nothing in the long run, actually, and JJ wants to ask Jane how she seriously hasn’t pieced that together yet but his hand is still shaking in John B’s grip so he makes the executive decision not to. “And I’m the one who asked him to look into fostering, actually,” and _oh_ , that’s new. That’s really fucking new. 

JJ’s shocked “ _Seriously_?” escapes his mouth before he can help it, and he immediately clamps his lips together, physically biting his tongue. He prays to the universe, the same universe that did a really good thing and granted him John B as a _soul sibling_ , that his question doesn’t come off as rude. 

Because JJ knows what happens to kids who are rude. And apparently, it’s not something that _should_ be happening, which is precisely why he and John B are even sitting here in this office, having been abruptly removed from their previous _unfit_ home way too early in the morning. And yet, no matter how much JJ thinks he might deserve what he gets because _there’s a difference between discipline and abuse and he doesn’t know what it is_ , he’d still like to not experience it this early in the goddamn morning, thank you very much. 

Jane, however, simply huffs out a single laugh, her eyes glinting in that social-worker-way after finally seeing some expression of emotion from JJ. JJ simultaneously melts into his seat in relief at her reaction and sends a small glare her way, a practiced glare with only a little bit of real heat that can easily be brushed off as playful. Because JJ hates that look she’s giving him. It’s the same one teachers give kids like him and John B when they play along in class, raising their hands and asking good questions and shit, just to keep them off their backs. 

JJ decides that Jane doesn’t need to know that, though. 

“Yes, seriously,” Jane responds, smiling. “Heyward’s a good friend of mine. We grew up together, in the Outer Banks, and he’s real good people. The system could do with folks like him, so I made that my personal mission,” Jane continues and damn, if that doesn’t make JJ’s chest ache in some sort of way. The small, unhelpful voice in the back of his mind quietly pipes back up, placing the strange feeling as _hope_ , and damn if that doesn’t scare him half to death. 

John B gives his hand three short squeezes. JJ thinks he might need to thank John B one day, for, well, _everything_ , but he figures that three short squeezes back will suffice for now. 

“So, you two are going to hang here with me for three more hours while I do some paperwork and then Mr. Heyward and his very lovely wife who I am _also_ friends with are going to stop by to bring you guys home and you are going to be _fine_ ,” Jane finishes.

JJ thinks that, for the first time in his life, he might just believe her. John B relaxes beside him, still holding his hand and not because either of them _need_ the grounding anymore, but because it’s just nice, and JJ learned a long time ago that John B’s mind doesn’t do the same spiraling thing that his does and so when John B can relax, it’s safe for JJ to relax, too. So he does. 

And you know what?

He can’t even hear his heartbeat in his ears anymore.


	2. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JJ and John B make their way to the Outer Banks.

The relief that John B feels while sitting in Jane’s office with his brother’s shoulder pressing against his own and his breaths deep and even doesn't last for very long. 

Mr. and Mrs. Heyward do, in fact, come to collect him and JJ from the DCS office three strikingly short hours later. Three hours during which John B goes from relieved and excited to anxious and skeptical because they’ve _been_ here before, him and JJ. They know this dance already and John B has learned the pretty hard way not to let his guard down so soon, or ever, around even the most promising of foster placements. JJ once told him after yet _another_ placement gone wrong that _unfit is DCS’s favorite fucking word_ and that _the whole damn system is unfit_. He calms down almost instantly when John B gently reminds him that the _system_ is what brought them together in the first place. _Soul siblings, Jay. We can thank them for that, at least_. 

John B doesn’t know how or when he got so good at knowing what JJ needs to hear, but he’s grateful for his talent, anyway. 

Still, JJ’s radiosensitive to John B’s feelings and depends way too heavily on John B for emotional cues, always has, and he knows for a fact that if he’s anxious and freaking out about meeting the Heywards then JJ will freak out, too, and that is _not_ the first impression that either of them needs to be making right now and so John B successfully suppresses his flinch as Mr. Heyward wraps him in a tight hug in greeting. With Mrs. Heyward’s warm hand on his shoulder, he watches as JJ is unable to do the same. 

And then before either of them knows it, all three adults disappear into another office to _talk_ and John B knows that that’s just DCS code for telling the Heywards all the fucking _issues_ that he and JJ have and how much of a burden they’ll both be with their _co-dependence_ and _PTSD_ and whatever the fuck else but he doesn’t _care_ anymore because JJ’s retreated back to his side and they can both breathe again. 

JJ’s eyes are red-rimmed and welling up and John B doesn’t even need to ask why. He’s pretty fucking terrified, too.

And then the peace and quiet of being left alone in the comfort of Jane’s familiar office is over way too soon and they’re both shuffled outside to the Heywards’ rusty pickup truck and it’s starting to sink in that Jane isn’t coming with them, this time. That there’s a reason why the Heywards are picking them up in the first place and it’s because the Outer Banks are too far of a drive for Jane because she has too much to do and even though he and JJ have done this a million times, _this_ part is brand new and it _sucks_. John B doesn’t want to get in a stranger’s truck. He doesn’t want to leave the mainland, doesn’t want to be so far away from Jane and her office and the broken clock on the wall. Because it’s all he’s ever known.

John B doesn’t know the Outer Banks and John B doesn’t do _not knowing_ things.

 _Hey, okay, breathe,_ he reminds himself. _Everything’s fine, Jane said everything’s fine. Breathe._

Without air conditioning, the backseat of the Heywards' pickup truck is sticky and humid, even more so than Jane’s office. And it’s funny, John B thinks, because apparently no matter where he goes today, whether it be an _unfit_ home or Jane’s office or a stranger’s vehicle, it’s just his fucking destiny to be uncomfortable. 

Well, okay, maybe now he’s just being dramatic because he’s scared and irritated and when JJ gets scared he turtles up and hides but John B gets _mad_ and yeah, that’s something that they probably both have to majorly work on, come to think of it. 

_It’s everyone else’s fucking fault that we’re scared,_ screams the frustrated voice in the back of his head, and John B internally laughs at the irony. _Point taken._

“So, are you boys excited to see the Outer Banks for the first time?” Mrs. Heyward asks kindly from the passenger seat as they cross Wright Memorial Bridge, and John B cringes in his seat. He feels JJ tense from where their shoulders are pressed together, doing the same. 

It wasn’t their choice to be this close to each other this time, actually, the pickup truck is just really, really narrow but neither of them are complaining. The physical touch is grounding enough to keep JJ’s mind from spiraling too far and John B from getting too mad at the universe. That’s not what either of them needs right now, they both know, but they balance each other out. Always have. 

_Well then,_ John B thinks, _allow the awkward small talk to commence._

“We’ve, uh, never been,” John B begins, answering for them both. He knows JJ still needs time before he can speak to these perfect strangers. _That’s okay,_ John B thinks, _I’m better at small talk anyway._ ‘We’re excited, though. Heard the surf’s pretty great,” he continues, his voice scratchy from disuse but charming nonetheless. JJ’s staring at his lap, twisting the band around his left thumb. A nervous tick, John B knows. 

“Oh, you boys like surfing? That’s great! Our son Pope loves to surf, I’m sure y’all will get along splendidly,” Mrs. Heyward answers sweetly, and John B can’t help but quietly scoff at the thought because biological kids are a major red flag, actually, and it feels like out of everybody in the whole world only him and JJ know that. JJ lets out an equally quiet amused hum under his breath. The tightness in John B’s chest uncoils marginally at the sound. 

Looking up from his lap now, JJ glances from John B to the front seat where Mrs. Heyward doesn’t particularly seem to be expecting an answer but at the same time doesn’t seem too willing to let the conversation end so soon. He’s building up the courage to speak, John B knows, and sends him a warm, reassuring smile, nodding minutely. JJ smiles back, shakily. “Surfing’s our favorite thing to do,” JJ pipes up softly. He’s still twisting the band on his thumb, even more frantically than before, and John B gently takes his hand before JJ starts bleeding and squeezes comfortingly. He can feel the tension leaving his brother’s body at the added contact. In the rearview mirror, John B can see both of the Heywards’ eyebrows raise in mild surprise, and quite frankly, he can’t really blame them. Even _he_ wasn’t expecting JJ to break his anxious silence so soon. 

Then again, his brother could never resist talking about surfing. 

“We used to surf all the time, at this one home,” JJ continues, slightly louder this time though still _quiet_ by all definitions. John B’s heart aches at the second nature of it, at the instinctiveness of his trepidity. 

_Yup, fuck the system._

“But we haven’t gone in a long time,” he finishes, and John B can _hear_ the frown in his voice. He gives his brother’s hand another small squeeze, and JJ squeezes back appreciatively. 

“Well, we’ll take you boys out as soon as you get settled in, how’s that sound?” Mr. Heyward suggests brightly, smiling and making eye contact with John B in the rear-view mirror. John B smiles back gently, nodding his head. 

_Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t get your hopes up._

It’s a silent mantra that he repeats to himself for the rest of the journey to the Heywards’ house. JJ’s more relaxed than he was before, which helps, but he still jumps every time Mr. or Mrs. Heyward says something like _look, that’s the high school you’ll attend_ or _there’s our favorite restaurant_ or _isn’t that view just marvelous?_ The hand squeezing still helps, too, though, and before they know it they’re passing huge, polished mansions and then rundown, unkempt _shacks_ and then they find themselves traveling down an average-looking street with average-sized houses lined up on either side and _okay,_ so, it’s slightly comforting these kinds of developments exist everywhere, even in the majestic Outer Banks. 

“Alright, boys, here we are!” Mrs. Heyward exclaims as they pull into the driveway. John B’s heart thrums loudly in his chest, and he knows that whatever he’s feeling, JJ is feeling _times ten._ The house looks nice, though, and it calms John B’s nerves the slightest bit. The nicer families usually take better care of their homes, in his experience. 

At least, for the most part. 

_Don’t get your hopes up._

John B slides out of the truck after Mr. and Mrs. Heyward clamber out, and JJ follows suit, instantly standing by his side. He takes a deep breath in a last minute attempt to quell his nerves, smiles reassuringly at JJ, and takes a small step toward where the Heywards are now waiting for them by the front door. And then another.

 _We’ve got this,_ he thinks, _we’ve done this all before._

And with JJ -- his brother, his best friend, his _soul sibling_ \-- right behind him, John B thinks that he can do _anything_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reception on the first chapter absolutely blew my mind. Really, guys. Thanks for the comments. Y'all got me feelin' all warm and fuzzy <3
> 
> Anyway, I hope this chapter didn't disappoint! I wrote most of it while eating melted cookies n' cream ice cream and listening to Jack Johnson. We got to see some insight from John B, and maybe possibly some foreshadowing as to the angst that's coming *wink wink*


	3. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JJ and John B start to get settled.

Getting “settled” into the Heywards’ house is weird, to say the least, and so unlike any of the many times that JJ and John B have done this before. 

For starters, they don’t have any of their clothes. 

That’s the most prevalent thing in JJ’s mind as he and John B trail after Mr. Heyward during the grand tour. Neither JJ nor his brother had been able to pack any of their meager belongings before being ushered out of the Petersons’ household way too early that morning - their belongings being a heap of mismatched clothes that had at one point started out as two distinct, separate piles but through the many years and many, _many_ placements, had become one shared pile. 

And it’s childish, maybe, but JJ likes it that way. He needs John B’s grounding touch, and the soft, worn clothes that smell like him are one way to get it. 

So JJ really doesn’t want new clothes, but he also _really_ doesn’t want to go back to the Petersons’ house to get anything. The thought of being in the same vicinity as Mr. Peterson alone is enough to make his ears ring and stomach clench and eyes well up and _please, sir, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did. I don’t know what I did but I won’t do it again I’m sorry-_

John B must notice him spacing out, _spiraling,_ because JJ soon feels his warm, gentle hand on the back of his neck, softly carding through the blonde curls where his neck meets his scalp, and JJ doesn’t even realize how fast his heart is beating until his eyes meet John B’s and he thinks _oh_. And he hates that he’s allowed his mind to get so carried away so quickly, at the thought of fucking _clothes_ nonetheless, especially when he’s in a new house and he doesn’t know Mr. Heyward or what sets him off. Without being present and aware of his surroundings he’d put himself _and_ John B in danger and that makes him want to hide in a dark cave or cry or maybe both but John B’s hand feels so _good,_ so relaxing and grounding that JJ slowly eases his shoulders so that they’re no longer raised to his ears. John B removes his hand from JJ’s neck and that _sucks_ because JJ isn’t ready to lose his grounding touch yet, but John B immediately places his hand in JJ’s and it makes him want to cry, almost, at how well John B can read him. 

Every once in awhile, JJ gets lost in the thought of what his life would be like if he hadn’t been placed in the same foster home as John B at age 10. _Dead, probably_ says that voice in the back of his head, and JJ’s pretty inclined to agree. He squeezes John B’s hand. John B gives three short squeezes back.

“You’re okay, bubba. I’ve got you,” John B whispers into his ear, moving his hand now to JJ’s back and drawing him in closer. JJ’s heart beats more calmly, and filling his lungs with air is no longer such an arduous task. They’re still following Mr. Heyward around the house and it will never stop amazing JJ how his body can even move on autopilot without his mind present but it _does_ and soon they’re standing in the doorway to the guest bedroom that JJ and John B will share and if Mr. Heyward had noticed JJ’s mini freakout, had seen the way that John B held JJ close or JJ’s hands shook as they raked through his hair, he doesn’t mention it. 

Later, they’re lying side by side on one of the two twin-sized beds in the small bedroom that’s now theirs. John B’s humming some soft tune under his breath, his head resting on JJ’s shoulder, his arm motionless where he’s allowing JJ to trace the fading bruises left from their most recent _unfit_ home. 

Mr. and Mrs. Heyward are downstairs in the kitchen, preparing an early supper, and JJ and John B had been informed that Pope, their son, was working at Heyward’s store and that he’d be home soon and they’d all sit down and eat together and the thought of not only having to meet the Biological Kid but also navigate the First Meal all within the next hour or so was _too much_ for JJ. He doesn’t think he ever wants to leave the safety of this bed, the safety of John B pressed against his side. 

But for right now, they’re both content and grounded in comforting touch. 

“JJ,” John B says softly, shaking JJ loose from his thoughts, “What was that about, earlier?” 

JJ turns his head to look at his brother, and sees John B already looking at him, eyes wide with concern but not pity. Never with pity. “I don’t know,” he says. “I just, I was thinking and my mind got a little carried away. I freaked myself out. Sorry.” So much goes unsaid. _I panicked because this time is so different in so many ways. I had a flashback. My mind was somewhere else until_ you _brought me back._ John B understands, anyway. 

“Do you like it here?” John B asks, voice unsure. “Like, do you think the Heywards are okay?” 

“Maybe. I don’t know,” JJ whispers back. “Jane trusts them, and I think I trust Jane, you know?” 

John B nods against his shoulder, eyes drooping. They’re both exhausted, but JJ knows that John B didn’t get nearly as much sleep last night as he did, surprisingly. So JJ decides to continue tracing his arm, an act which he knows soothes John B the way that John B playing with his hair soothes _him_ , and wordlessly volunteers to be first on lookout duty. 

It’s a familiar routine. Every foster placement is different, so it’s become a tradition for JJ and his brother to sleep in shifts for the first couple of nights. Just in case. 

In some placements, like the Peterson’s, it’s more than the first couple nights.

It’s the entire time they’re there.

They lay like that, with John B sleeping lightly on JJ’s shoulder and JJ on lookout, for almost an entire hour when JJ hears the front door open and then close, followed immediately by soft chatter downstairs. 

_Pope must be home._

He gently shakes John B awake and nervously passes on the news and together they stand up and stretch, rushing to look more presentable. There’s not much that they can do, but they smooth out the sleep wrinkles in their scrappy clothing and run their fingers through their hair in a vain attempt at taming it. 

A knock on their closed bedroom door startles them both, before Mr. Heyward lets himself in. JJ had noticed right away when they were shown their room that the door didn’t have a lock. It’s always the very first thing that he and John B check and even though the doors _never_ have locks in literally _any_ of their placements, they still eagerly check every time. 

“Are you boys ready to come downstairs?” Mr. Heyward asks with a kind smile, leaning on the door frame and _okay,_ so, it sucks that he can just come in whenever he wants but at least he hasn’t _come in_ , not really. Both boys nod before following him out of the room and down the stairs, their nervous energy nearly palpable. 

Pope is actually really nice, which is, well, _nice._ He doesn’t even try to shake their hands or anything, just smiles genuinely at them and strikes up a conversation about surfing. It isn’t a dry conversation either, or forced, and even JJ finds it easy to talk to Pope. Some of the butterflies in his stomach settle, and while he notices that he’s twisting the band around his left thumb, it’s more of a distraction and something to do with his awkward hands than out of anxiety. 

Dinner goes almost as smoothly. Just like with every other First Meal, JJ doesn’t know what to expect or how he should act. Will they have to say grace? Can he serve himself, and if so, how does he know when he’s taken too much? Is he allowed to have seconds? ‘Cos he’s really, _really_ hungry right now but both he and John B have been _disciplined_ before for taking too much, for eating before they’re supposed to, for having _poor table manners_. JJ decides to follow John B’s lead, because he’s noticed that John B’s decided to follow Pope’s lead and they can’t _both_ watch Pope ‘cos that’s weird and too obvious. They seat themselves around the small dinner table in the kitchen, and serve themselves average-sized portions. 

JJ waits until everyone else has food before filling his plate. He takes a little bit less than Pope does, just in case. 

The conversation is light and easy. JJ participates sometimes, and even quietly laughs a few times at Pope and Mr. Heyward’s playful banter. It’s easily the most lighthearted home they’ve been in in a long, long time. 

Toward the end of the meal, John B accidentally knocks over his now-empty plastic cup of water while reaching for a napkin and both he and JJ freeze, tensing up. Mr. Heyward glances up from his food at the strikingly loud clatter, pausing his conversation with Pope, and JJ tries to quell his rising panic. Before the usual string of pleading apologies can escape from John B’s mouth, however, Mr. Heyward gives them both a soft, small smile. “It’s okay,” he says, and JJ feels like crying but he doesn’t know why. “No harm done, and it was an accident anyway.” 

The rest of the meal is almost perfect, after that. Everyone resumes conversation as if nothing even happened at all, which JJ is immensely grateful for. The atmosphere at the table isn’t even awkward. Both JJ and John B mentally take note of the fact that small mistakes, such as the cup incident or JJ forgetting to return the tongs to the bowl of salad, don’t seem to upset or anger anyone. It’s a relief. 

They’ve both been hit for much, much less. 

After dinner everyone parts ways to wash up before heading to bed. The boys are given toothbrushes and spare pajamas from Pope for the time being. Exhaustion sinking in, JJ only flinches slightly as he bumps into Pope on his way out of the bathroom that the three boys now all share. Pope just smiles at him, brushing off his apology, and bids him goodnight, even telling JJ to come and get him if he or John B need anything during the night and don’t want to wake up his parents. 

Neither JJ nor his brother have enough energy for lookout duty, but they both sleepily concur that lookout duty isn’t necessary. At least not tonight. 

The day that JJ and John B are sent to the Outer Banks for the first time begins terribly, sure, but it ends really, _really_ well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! 
> 
> Day one with the Heywards is done! I decided to end this one with some fluff and happy feels. I think JJ and John B deserve it after the long day they've had. There's still a LOT of adjusting to be done, though, and many learning curves to explore before they finally feel safe and realize how much they're loved. But they'll get there. 
> 
> I don't think that posting a new chapter will ever get less daunting, but all of your comments and Kudos and bookmarks make it all worthwhile <3 It's crazy to see how many authors that I stan commenting on this story. I love this fandom so freaking much.
> 
> As always, constructive criticism, story suggestions, and self-promo are welcome!


	4. Testing the Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JJ and John B learn to trust just a little bit more.

John B wakes up to the sound of muffled gasping and choked-back sobs. 

(It’s an _all_ too familiar sound. His mind wasn’t alert before, in his sleepy fog, but it is now.) 

It must be the middle of the night because the room is pitch-black, not even the moonlight seeping through the thick curtains of the window. John B can’t see. He _needs_ to see. 

“JJ?” 

“John B,” JJ gasps. His voice is desperate. “John B. Lights. Lights, _please_.”

At the panic in his brother’s voice, John B scrambles out of bed and finds the light switch on the wall beside the door. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, but when they do, his heart shatters. 

JJ is sitting up on his bed, his knees drawn to his chest, his hands fisting his hair. With his forehead pressed against his knees, John B can’t see his face but he doesn’t need to to know that JJ’s crying, still reeling from whatever nightmare or flashback had woken him up . But the worst, it seems, is over. If JJ had been coherent enough to know that he was in this bedroom with John B, had been present enough to even _communicate_ his needs to his brother, then John B really had slept through the brunt of JJ’s panic. 

And _fuck_ if that doesn’t make John B want to rip his own hair out or punch something (or some _one_ ), but there are more pressing matters at hand. 

Like the fact that when John B gently sits down on the edge of JJ’s bed, he flinches and curls even further into himself. 

“Hey, hey, it’s me. It’s just me.” JJ tilts his head up, teary and red-rimmed gaze peering up at John B through his blonde fringe, and takes a deep, shuddering breath at seeing John B’s own exaggerated breaths. “Good, that’s good.” John B gives him an encouraging nod, the corners of his lips turning upwards as he sees JJ take another deep breath, and then another. He slowly lowers his hands from tugging at his hair, instead busying his hands with twisting the band around his thumb. John B decides to let it slide, for now. 

“It was my dad,” JJ offers, in a timid, unsure voice. John B fucking _hates_ it when JJ sounds like this. The Real JJ is _loud_ , and filled with so much life that John B doesn’t even know what to do with himself, usually just getting wrapped up in the whirlwind that is JJ’s laughter and bad jokes and crooked smiles. 

But John B hasn’t seen The Real JJ for quite some time. 

Now, JJ’s all soft-spoken whispers, usually carefully thought out and only escaping his lips after a ridiculous amount of courage is mustered up. His care-free attitude and free spirit _never_ see the light of day unless he’s alone with John B, and it makes John B’s head and teeth ache. He wishes that JJ knew how much he misses him, the Real him, wishes he knew how angry he was at the world for scaring his brother into what their last school psychologist called a _suppression of self expression_. He doesn’t say any of that, though.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks kindly, instead. 

JJ shrugs slowly. His shoulders are still trembling minutely, and John B wishes that he could offer JJ his favorite hoodie. It’s faded green and oversized and from a bin of spare clothes in some nurse’s office in some school somewhere that they attended while at some placement, once upon a time. But it’s cozy and smells like sea salt and is both his and his brother’s favorite article of clothing and an absolute go-to during times like this, during times of distress, and John B, for the first time, despairs over their missing clothing. He thinks he knows how JJ felt, earlier. Because the short sleeve t-shirts they’d borrowed from Pope smell like laundry detergent and aren’t very comforting or grounding at all and just, it would be really fucking nice to have something, _any_ thing, that belonged to them. To have literally anything that they weren’t leeching off of other people, like the _burdens_ that the Petersons swore they were, and John B hates to admit that he kind of agrees.

But that’s just too bad, because they don’t have the hoodie right now and may never see it again. So instead, John B slowly scoots further up the bed and toward JJ, giving his brother plenty of time to move away if he wants to ( _he doesn’t_ ) and presses his back against the headboard, his shoulder brushing against JJ’s. He can feel his brother sign contentedly before leaning his body weight against him, and John B can’t suppress his smile at the movement. 

JJ would absolutely kick him in the shin for thinking it, but he’s probably the most cuddly person on earth and John B _stands_ by that sentiment. 

“It was the same old,” JJ says after a beat of silence. John B immediately knows what he’s talking about. “It was a memory. A flashback? I dunno. Of Dad. On that last day.” 

_That last day_ being the day that JJ entered the system, John B knows. The day that JJ’s father had laid his hands on his son for the last time, before a concerned neighbor finally called the cops. They don’t talk about it much, because it was one of the Worst Days of JJ’s life and he relives it enough in his sleep, anyway, but John B knows enough about _that last day_ to know that JJ’s already done talking about it. 

And like, it _sucks_ that JJ ever even went through that at the hands of his father, and John B couldn’t even imagine because his own father was neglectful as hell and literally just left one day and never came back but he’d never _hit_ him. John B never experienced that sort of violence until he’d entered the system, but he still knew what it was like. So it’s twisted, maybe, to say that John B is secretly sort of really grateful that the Worst Day of JJ’s life had occurred, because the very next morning, Jane showed up knocking on his foster parents’ front door with a battered and bruised JJ by her side. 

The universe _literally_ delivered John B a _soul sibling_ to his front door, but John B’s the last person who’s gonna complain about it. 

“You good, now?” John B asks as he feels JJ nuzzle his forehead into his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” JJ mumbles. “Just, really wish I had a blunt right now, or something.” 

John B huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, sure you do.” They’d only ever smoked weed once, _literally_ once, about a week or two into staying at the Petersons. John B had found the small pre-rolled blunt on the school’s bathroom floor (which was gross, he admits) and he and JJ had taken turns choking on the smoke later that night, leaned over their open bedroom window. By the time the two of them had been able to take a hit without wheezing, the blunt was dead and the high, if you could even call it that, lasted all of one hour. But still, it was one whole hour of forgetting that they were once again in a new home, attending a new school and talking to a new school psychologist. Plus, Mr. Peterson was super unfriendly and definitely terrified John B more than he wanted to admit, and the weed was a really nice escape from it all. 

John B wants to laugh, in retrospect, at how much his past self didn’t even see coming. He’d take an _unfriendly_ Mr. Peterson _any_ day of the week, later on. 

“Wanna keep the light on?” John B asks, his voice softer now that he can feel JJ drifting off beside him, leaning even more heavily against his shoulder. When he doesn’t receive a response, he turns his head to see JJ fast asleep, his chest rising and falling in an easy, deep rhythm. He decides that _yes_ , the light is staying on, because there is no way in hell that he is getting up and disturbing his brother but also because a dark room is definitely not something that either of them can handle right now, and he maneuvers himself so that he’s properly laying down on the bed, with JJ still nuzzled against his side. The first rays of light begin to peek through the curtains dressing the small window, and John B gently closes his eyes, sleep once again coming easy.

* * *

At some point between the time that John B falls back asleep and breakfast later in the morning, someone from DCS had dropped off their clothes at the front door. After he and his brother are gently awoken by a sleep-riddled, ruffled-looking Pope and the three boys pad downstairs to eat, the small garbage bag sits waiting for them on the living room sofa, and John B wants to cry at the sight of it. He’s pretty sure that JJ actually does, sees him turn his head away and swipe at his face. The brothers rush the bag up to their room and practically tear it open. JJ opts for the Green Hoodie despite the August heat, and John B pulls on a thin long-sleeve shirt. 

Their last school psychologist, the same one that formally diagnosed JJ as being dyslexic and both boys as having _CPTSD_ and _abandonment issues_ and _separation anxiety_ , had gently informed them that their attachment to their clothing was a direct result of the aforementioned diagnoses and is one way that their separation anxiety and abandonment issues manifest.

John B just thinks it’s nice to always have something familiar no matter where he goes or what he goes through. It’s also why his heart stammers in his chest a little when he’s not with JJ. So, sue him. 

They return back downstairs, now dressed in their own clothing and unsurprisingly much more comfortable both physically and emotionally. 

Breakfast goes well. John B notices that JJ carefully observes Pope’s plate, and takes only a little bit of food, and he’s pretty sure he knows why. When the three Heywards are wrapped up in their own separate conversation, John B nudges his brother's foot with his own, and nods his head toward the stack of pancakes in the center of the table. Reluctantly, cautiously, JJ takes just one more. 

It’ll have to do for now. 

JJ and John B volunteer to clean up after breakfast, and Mrs. Heyward beams at them, placing a gentle hand on each of their shoulders in thanks. JJ can’t suppress his flinch at the contact, and John B shies away completely. And then he feels bad, and returns Mrs. Heywards’ warm smile. 

It’s only once the dishes are cleaned, dried, and put away that the Heywards ask Pope to go upstairs to his room for a bit so that they can talk to John B and his brother. His stomach plummets, eyes immediately scanning the living room for all exits and escape routes. He’d already mentally mapped out every exit from every room, had done so instinctively during their tour the day before, but runs it all through his mind once again. Just in case. 

By the calculating look on his brother’s face, he knows that JJ’s doing the same. 

At Mr. Heyward’s gesture, the brothers hesitantly move from the kitchen to the living room, sitting cautiously down on the sofa. Mrs. Heyward chooses to sit on the armchair facing them diagonally, and Mr. Heyward seats himself on the coffee table in the center of the room. He’s way too close for comfort, John B thinks, and could easily reach out and grab either of them at any given moment or block them from escaping. It makes his shoulders tense and his stomach uneasy. He feels JJ hooking his foot around his ankle, and breaths a small sigh of relief at the contact. 

Mr. Heyward smiles gently at them. “You boys sleep okay, last night?” 

“Yeah, yes, sir. Thank you,” John B answers politely. 

“Glad to hear it,” Heyward says. He leans back just a little, and both John B and his brother breathe easier at the added space between them. “Now that y’all are a little bit more settled, we wanted to lay down some ground rules.” 

John B appreciates the straight-forwardness. 

“First, just know that you two will be treated no differently than we treat Pope. We’ll have the same expectations for all three of you, and the same repercussions for misbehavior. No drinking, no drugs of _any_ sort, and once school starts back up, it becomes your number one priority. You don’t have to get good grades, so long as you’re trying your best. Yeah?” Heyward asks, and JJ and John B both nod their heads seriously. John B’s still struggling to breathe, just a little. He can’t help but feel like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Pope works at the store and has a couple of chores around the house. You’ll each have chores, nothing too crazy, and you can work too, if you want. Doesn’t have to be at the store, can be anywhere within walking distance of here. Everything you earn, you keep. We’ll provide you with food and clothes and school supplies, of course. You won’t ever have to worry about going without.” 

John B’s still processing everything that Mr. Heyward had just said when he feels JJ shift beside him. “What are, what are the repercussions? For not behaving?” JJ asks quietly, and it makes John B want to cry when he realizes that that’s probably the only thought that’s been running through his brother’s mind since Mr. Heyward had mentioned it at the beginning of his lecture. He’s proud of JJ, though, for asking, and nudges his foot to tell him as much. 

Mr. Heyward considers JJ, and then considers them both. “Well,” he says, “I don’t hit kids, if that’s what you're asking.” The bluntness of his answer once again shocks John B. “You’ll never go without food, either. Depending on the situation, you might have more chores. Might have to study more before going out anywhere. We’ll be fair.” John B feels like crying _again_ , fucking emotions, and the feeling only intensifies when he glances at JJ to see his own watery eyes. 

“Now that you know our rules,” Mrs. Heyward speaks up for the first time, “do you have any rules for us?” 

And, _okay_ , so, that's something that John B totally doesn't see coming. 

“What?” 

“We set our boundaries for you,” she says. “You boys are human. You have your own wants and needs that we don’t know about yet. You’re allowed to set boundaries for us, too. We want you to trust us.” At the look of confusion on both brothers’ faces, Mrs. Heyward gives them another gentle smile. “Pope asks us not to enter his room unless he explicitly says so, so we don’t. And we always, always knock. 

_Oh_. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice. Could you- could you do that for us, too?” John B tests. 

Mr. Heyward nods. “‘Course, kid. Anything else? JJ?”

JJ jolts at being addressed directly. His right hand immediately reaches for the band around his left thumb. John B nudges his foot again. “Could you-” JJ cuts himself off, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He tries again, voice just as unsure. “Could you not yell? Even, even when you’re mad?” 

Both of the Heywards just _stare_ at him, blinking for a moment. _Processing_ , John B imagines, because to be quite frank, that one simple request offers a lot to unpack. But then, all at once, they’re both nodding adamantly. 

“Yeah, absolutely,” Mrs. Heyward says, with such kindness in her voice that John B feels like melting. 

Cautiously, John B and his brother take turns suggesting new boundaries. After a few minutes, they have a short list: the Heywards can’t come into their room unless they have permission and always have to knock, they can’t yell at them, they can’t touch them without warning, and JJ and John B always get to do their own laundry. They’ll accept new clothes, of course, but what they already own stays theirs. 

Eventually, after assurances that their list can always change whenever they want it to, Pope is allowed to come back downstairs and he immediately takes to talking to John B and his brother about school. Well, more about what Pope was just reading from this one textbook while he had been upstairs, about dead bodies because apparently he wants to be a coroner, but John B’s glad for the distraction. He really doesn’t wanna analyze the whole boundary thing that just happened, and Pope’s a little weird, but he’s funny and nice and lowkey has some pretty interesting fun facts up his sleeve. 

And John B can’t help but think that as long as this warm feeling in his chest isn’t going anywhere, he could _really_ get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. 
> 
> I am so, so sorry for not updating for like, three whole weeks. Things have been crazy, and a little rough, and a little bit (okay, a lot of) crying has been happening around here, mostly from me. But writing this chapter has been an escape. I hope it could be yours, too. 
> 
> No matter how hard things get, life always looks up. Always, always, always. And always, you'll look back on the things you've been through and realize that you went through those experiences for a reason. There's always a reason, I promise. 
> 
> Anywho, yay for setting healthy boundaries! Our boys have a long way to go on the trust front, but this is a start. They'll interact more with Pope soon, and meet Kie, too. Our Pogues will be together before you know it. 
> 
> As always, feel free to drop a comment. Self-promo is totally welcome here. I'd love to check out whatever you guys have in the works :)


	5. Riding the Waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They Heyward family goes surfing.

When Heyward gets a call from one of his childhood friends, Jane, on a Friday morning in May, he expects it to be like every other call he’s received from her in recent years - a short update on her life, with news that she’s going to be in Kildare County for the weekend, and _would you like to grab breakfast with me and catch up?_

So it’s very much to his surprise that instead, he’s on the receiving end of her urgent, panicked voice, one he hasn’t heard since high school during Midterms and Finals, and she’s rambling about one of her cases and how she doesn’t know what to do but also _does_ and just needs his help with it. And Heyward’s mind is short circuiting all the while, trying to play catch-up; it takes him a moment to remember what Jane does for a living, that by _cases_ she must be referring to work, that she’s asking him for his help with _work_. 

He says no, at first. Very adamantly, actually, because he already has a business and a wife and a son and he doesn’t _need_ anything more, doesn’t feel like there’s some _missing piece_ to his life like Jane once explained was one of the biggest reasons why people get into fostering. He also doesn’t need anything _more_ to worry about, doesn’t need more mouths to feed, more bodies to clothe, more school supplies to buy. 

So he says no, and he still says no the second and third time that Jane asks that week. 

But then his wife asks him why Jane has been calling so much lately, since the amount of times they’ve heard from her in the past week is more than they usually do in a _year_ , and Heyward makes the huge, _whopping_ mistake of telling her the goddamn truth. 

And it’s all over from there. 

Soon, they’re taking classes on parenting and trauma and mental health, setting up another bed in the spare room, filling out _way_ too much paperwork, and have a few more people than Heyward thinks is strictly necessary coming to their house to inspect it. _Numerous_ times. And all the while, Heyward is silently dreading welcoming anyone new into his family. He isn’t fond of change. But Jane has done a lot for him over the years, and his wife reminds him over and over again that they’re _doing the right thing_ and _it’s what Jesus would do_ and _Jane said that they’re nice boys._

Heyward’s never been particularly religious, but he can’t argue that giving someone a home who _really_ needs it is nothing short of just morally decent. And besides, Jane explained that they’ll receive around $700 for each boy per _month_ and they have the spare room in their house and to be quite frank, there’s really no blatant reason to say no other than Heyward’s disdain toward change. So he stays quiet, and answers as many of Pope’s questions as he can, and reluctantly goes to classes and fills out paperwork and allows perfect strangers to rummage through his house. 

The second he enters Jane’s stuffy office on the mainland two months later and eyes the boys for the first time, though, _every_ thing changes. 

It’s not often that people become licensed foster parents to take in specific people. It’s _extremely rare_ , actually, as Jane had put it, but since the Heywards knew exactly who would be entering their home, they’d had two months to learn about the boys’ _specific needs._

(Apparently, the typical licensing process takes _far_ longer than two months. Heyward avoids thinking about why their licensing was so rushed. He doesn’t think he’ll like any answer he can come up with.)

During their regular meetings and phone calls with Jane, both Heywards learn that the two boys aren’t _technically_ brothers, but that they refused to be separated and past experience shows that any attempt at such does _not_ end well. They’re informed that through several school psychologists, it has come to DCS’s attention that they both suffer from a myriad of mental health issues - separation anxiety, PTSD, intense fear of abandonment, and even a learning disability on JJ’s part. But because none of the school workers had been psychiatrists, there’s _technically_ no official diagnoses, and once the boys land in their care the Heywards will have to drive them to a psychiatrist on the mainland for them to seek proper treatment. 

Anyway, despite nothing being official, the boys’ trauma is clear as day the second that Heyward and his wife meet them. Alongside a plethora of bruises and faint scars littering both of their arms, JJ and John B are _far_ too skinny for two teenage boys. They both shrink away from Heyward when he approaches them in greeting, and JJ outright flinches. He thinks he even sees tears welling up in his eyes. 

It’s heartbreaking, to say the least. 

Jane pulls Heyward and his wife to a smaller office beside her own to finalize the paperwork and give them last minute reminders such as _the first couple days are the hardest_ and _call me if you need anything_ and _contact me soon so we can get the boys set up with a psychiatrist_ and Heyward absolutely _hates_ his past self for ever saying no to her, for not getting the two brothers in the next room over safe and in his care sooner.

But the boys are in his care _now_ , and he swears on his life that they’ll never be hurt again as long as he has anything to say about it. 

Heyward takes the long car ride back to the Outer Banks as an opportunity to observe his new wards even closer. He and his wife had learned in one of their classes all about codependency and separation anxiety and the overall effects of trauma, but JJ and John B are so subtle that he almost misses it - the way that John B’s wild eyes calm the second they meet JJ’s, the way that JJ’s frantic twisting of a ring on his thumb only curbs when John B holds his hand, the way that either boy can only speak up at the quiet reassurance and encouragement of the other. 

When they arrive at the house, both boys stay silent during the tour. They trail behind him slowly, still shoulder-to-shoulder, but with plenty of space between themselves and Heyward. Heyward respects their distance, and keeps his eyes forward to give them the privacy to look around and adjust to their new surroundings and when he finally arrives at the boys’ room to conclude the tour, he notices that JJ looks particularly shaken up. 

He knows better than to push too soon, though, especially when he knows neither of them are anywhere _close_ to trusting him yet. So he leaves it be. 

During dinner, he notices that neither JJ nor John B take a lot of food but he breaks it down to the fact that they’ve both had a long, stressful day and leaves _that_ be, too. They’re both evidently timid and unsure and it’s yet another reminder of all the work they have ahead. 

Heyward just prays that a warm meal and some gentle reassurances are enough for now. 

The next morning brings a new set of challenges. A DCS worker drops off JJ and John B’s clothes at dawn and it’s the most relieved Heyward’s sure either boy has felt in a long time, and it eases some of the tension he’s felt since first meeting them yesterday. After changing, they return back downstairs smiling and more relaxed than before and it’s enough to make him want to cry. The long sleeve shirt and over-sized hoodie that they choose to wear is completely unsurprising, considering the bruising Heyward had seen yesterday, and while he’s concerned about the particular clothing choice with the extreme heat outside, he knows he has to pick his battles. 

And he is _not_ about to make either boy more uncomfortable. Not today. 

So while the clothing is a small win (he knows from the classes that an effect of separation anxiety and fear of abandonment is extreme attachment to belongings), breakfast is a whole other story. 

He’s expecting the boys to be ravenous, and he prepares more than enough food for three teenage boys plus himself and his wife. And while John B fills up his plate to match Pope’s, JJ still takes just a small portion of food. Heyward’s mind spins as he tries to recall any mention of either boys having issues with food - he knows neither of them has any food allergies, nor do they have any preferred diet - but it dawns on him that JJ’s probably just reluctant to take too much food. 

(He _definitely_ ignores the part of his brain that says he knows the same feeling from personal experience).

Heyward doesn’t know much about what the boys’ past homes were like, specifically, but he does know that they were removed due to both physical and emotional abuse and neglect and he figures that his conclusion might not be too far off. 

He’s about to pause his conversation with Pope and his wife about their plans for the day to encourage the boy to eat some more when he sees John B give JJ a significant look, before JJ cautiously takes a little bit more food. 

His heart breaks yet again. He catalogs the moment to unpack and deal with later. 

After breakfast, he and his wife sit the boys down in the living room to lay down some of the ground rules. Jane had mentioned to both of them that being left guessing was a huge root of anxiety for most foster kids, including JJ and John B, and that the boys need structure and to know what they’re expected of in order to curb some of their uneasiness. Heyward again is reminded of his own childhood, and takes that advice to heart, so he does just that - he lays down his rules, expectations, and boundaries. 

Asking JJ and John B if they have any boundaries of their _own_ had been a last minute decision on their part - while the boys were cleaning up from breakfast, his wife mentions that one of their classes on trauma taught that in order to build trust, letting kids set their own boundaries was _extremely_ vital. 

Heyward doesn’t quite know what to do with the fact that the boys’ only boundaries pretty much ask the bare minimum of the Heywards - to not yell at them or touch them or their stuff - but he makes it very clear that their list of boundaries can be added to at any time. 

He makes it even _more_ abundantly clear that he doesn’t plan on touching a single hair on either of their heads in any way other than affection. He wants to be so positively clear about it that he says it outright and even though he knows that his words won’t magically make the brothers fear him less, he thinks he sees their shoulders ease, just a little. 

It’s not until nearly lunchtime, after giving all three boys a couple of hours to unwind away from the constant eye of adults and just be _kids_ , that Heyward and his wife feel JJ and John B are settled enough to take them surfing as promised the day before. 

“Feel up to seeing if the waves here are really all the rave?” Heyward asks. He means to add that they certainly don’t have to go anywhere today, that the beach is a five minute car ride away and that they can go _any_ day because he imagines that the brothers are still so exhausted, but John B smiles so wide at the offer, his shoulders relaxed and easy, and JJ’s eyes shine so bright that Heyward thinks he could probably turn off all the lights in the house and _still_ see them. 

_Okay, so, good call._

They only have one surfboard for all of them to use, but that doesn’t curb anyone’s excitement. They arrive at Rixon’s Cove in record time, and Heyward revels at the lack of Tourons on the beach. It’s the beginning of what the residents of the Outer Banks know as Local Summer - the schools down south are starting up for the year, and the schools up north are starting their summer workouts for sports, and no one can really fit a vacation into their schedule. Business slows down for everyone, the beaches are nearly clear, and the locals can _finally_ relax and enjoy. 

_Plus,_ the waves are _far better_ during the fall months. That’s just an empirical fact. 

Pope takes his turn first, mostly because after working and catering to Tourons all summer he _literally_ can’t be held back, but partially because the board shorts that the brothers had borrowed from Pope don’t fit quite just right - they’re slightly big on JJ, slightly small on John B, and both boys are trying their damn hardest to inconspicuously adjust before they can go in the water. Heyward bites back a laugh, and adds bathing suits to his mental list of things they’ll have to purchase when they go shopping for clothes and other essentials tomorrow. 

Logic and reason say that that should’ve been on the agenda for _today_ , with leisurely surfing for tomorrow, but Heyward has a sneaking suspicion that logic and reason aren’t going to be applying to a whole lot of things concerning the boys. 

His wife, Zena, lays out the large Mexican blanket that she’d packed and takes a seat on the ground, JJ and John B following suit not long after. JJ’s running his hand through the sand in fascination, like it’s been so long since he’s been able to feel the sun-warmed silky softness of it and he can’t believe that he’s _actually_ there, at the beach, and John B is collecting all of the seashells in arm’s reach and stacking them precariously on his knee. 

Pope’s only out on the water for ten short minutes before he retreats back to the blanket, dropping the damp surfboard heedlessly on the sand in favor of a bottle of water from the small cooler packed with drinks and lunch. It’s past one o’clock now and Heyward feels himself start to get hungry, eventually deciding that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to eat now before anyone else goes out onto the water with a potentially empty stomach. 

Earlier, while Heyward and his wife had been preparing lunch, Heyward had shared his concerns with Zena about JJ’s eating. The first two meals that they had with the boys had been a serve-yourself style, with food at the center of the table for anyone to take what and when they pleased. Zena was a big believer in eating intuitively, and while the Heyward family ate their meals at approximately the same time everyday, she always emphasized to her husband and son that they should only eat when they feel hunger, and stop when they are full. Zena had grown up in a family that made her eat everything on her plate, whether she was hungry or not, and after developing an unhealthy relationship with food swore to herself that she would never do the same to her own family. Hence, serve-yourself style meals. 

That being said, getting to choose a portion of food seemed to cause a great deal of anxiety to JJ. He wasn’t eating enough, and Heyward and Zena knew that simply telling the boy to help himself to more food if he was still hungry simply wouldn’t cut it. Not even John B could get his brother to eat to his satisfaction. 

Zena’s solution, _ingeniously_ in Heyward’s opinion, was to pre-package everyone’s lunch - one sandwich, one bag of chips, and one small Tupperware container of grapes is carefully distributed to everyone seated around the blanket. 

Heyward doesn’t miss the look of relief on JJ’s face at seeing that everyone receives the same amount of food, leaving no room for error on his behalf. He doesn’t miss the calculated yet hopeful look on John B’s face as he notes the difference of this meal. And while JJ still takes cues from John B, only eating at the pace of his brother (who Heyward is disappointed to see only eats at the same pace as Pope), he finishes the whole meal. 

And _hell_ if this small victory doesn’t feel like Heyward’s won a million bucks. 

Zena, as usual, is very adamant that everyone has to wait at _least_ thirty minutes before surfing to allow time for digestion, much to Pope’s dismay. 

“Mom, I’ve _told_ you. That’s just a myth! No one’s gonna drown if we go surfing now,” he laments. Heyward chuckles under his breath. He knows his wife won’t be swayed, and Pope knows it too - his tone is cheerful, teasing. 

Zena smiles right back. “Hooligan,” she drawls. Pope laughs at this, before redirecting his attention to JJ and John B and striking up another conversation. 

Thirty minutes later, John B volunteers to surf next. He stands slowly, legs numb from sitting for so long, and gingerly pulls off his long sleeve shirt. Heyward can’t help but wince at the sight of the dark blue bruises blossoming on his chest and littering parts of his arms. JJ pulls the sleeves of his baggy hoodie over his hands at the sight, suddenly self-conscious of his own bruises, and Heyward sees him tense as John B walks away from him and toward the surfboard. 

Heyward knew that with the boys’ codependency, taking everyone surfing with only one board would be a risk. But school was starting soon, where JJ and John B would likely be apart for hours at a time, so after spending the long months of summer unseparated (and likely many months before that), they’d have to start taking baby steps _now_. Starting with a few minutes of individual surfing. 

JJ looks increasingly uneasy the closer John B gets to the water, reaching for the band around his left thumb to twist it nervously, and Heyward sort of shares the same sentiments, as much as he hates to admit it. He knows it’s been a long while since either boy has surfed. John B could _easily_ get hurt, which in and of itself is a concern, but if the first time he leaves his brother’s side in months results in injury- 

Well, like he said, it was _risky_. 

Luckily though, John B takes to riding the waves with ease after only one minor wipeout, during which JJ nearly stopped breathing as he waited for his brother’s head to surface from under the water. But he’s whooping and hollering with pure unadulterated _joy_ and it makes everyone smile, including JJ, who, by the looks of it, doesn’t even look that uneasy anymore as he talks lightly with Pope. Heyward can’t hear the topic of conversation, but both boys are smiling and JJ even takes to removing his thick hoodie under the sweltering sun revealing his own bruises. 

Heyward knows from experience that JJ could only have done that if he felt truly comfortable with Pope and felt safe enough in general to part with his prized clothing, which he knows acts as a sort of blanket of security, in anything other than necessity. His heart swells at the thought. 

John B’s out on the water for a much longer time than Pope, and comes jogging back to the blanket nearly thirty minutes later. His smile, wide and cheeky, is nothing like the measured, tentative smiles he’d been giving Heyward the past day out of politeness. And, _okay_ , when Jane had said that these were _good boys_ , she really fucking meant it, didn’t she. Heyward doesn’t know how much more he can take before his heart explodes. 

Zena grabs a towel from her beach bag and beckons John B to come closer. He drops down to the blanket heavily, exhausted from surfing, and nods his head curtly at Zena’s questioning glance. She brings the towel to John B’s hair, _slowly_ , so the boy sees it coming, and gently rubs the water out of his long curls before draping the towel around his shoulders. John B doesn’t flinch at the contact, instead leaning into it, sighing contentedly. 

If this was 24 hours ago, Heyward would have assumed that this was an act on John B’s behalf to keep JJ calm, since he knew his brother was watching, looking for any signs that he should be afraid. 

But now, John B’s relaxation seems genuine. Heyward knows that this is mostly due to his physical exhaustion, but he’ll still take any wins he can get. 

JJ gets up next to go surfing. The surfboard is coated in sand now from where John B had laid it on the ground, and is in dire need of more wax before anyone uses it again. Heyward pulls the small container of wax out of Zena’s beach bag and after using a towel to wipe away most of the sand begins waxing. He waxes about half of the board before turning to JJ, still hovering nervously over the blanket, and asks, “Wanna help?” 

JJ, not expecting to be addressed, looks anxiously toward his brother. John B briefly looks up from his conversation with Pope and nods encouragingly, giving his brother a reassuring smile. JJ eases slightly, but is still very wary as he approaches Heyward and the surfboard. He stops an arm's length away and Heyward, knowing the boy won’t be coming any closer, tosses the container of wax to JJ and takes a couple of steps backwards, giving the boy space to wax the board without having to worry about not seeing Heyward behind his back. 

JJ finishes waxing quickly, eager now to get in the water, and after hastily returning the container of wax to the beach bag, jogs off. John B looks on with vague concern, but overall looks relatively relaxed and content to sit in the sun and talk to Pope. 

Heyward keeps a sharp eye on JJ as he lays on the board and paddles out farther into the water, just as he did with Pope and John B, but is in absolute _awe_ as JJ conquers the first large wave that comes his way. If he thought that John B had been good, if he thought that _he_ had been good, JJ is an absolute _natural_. His bright smile is hard to miss, and he looks the most at ease that Heyward has ever seen. 

“I told you he was a legend,” he hears John B say proudly to Pope. Heyward turns around to see Zena, Pope, and John B all looking on with just as much admiration. “Kid belongs in the water.” 

Heyward looks on as JJ pulls a roundhouse cutback with _ease_ , letting out a holler of joy, as John B cheers for him from a distance, as his cooler sits empty of any food, and thinks, for the first time since bringing his boys home, that everything will be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiii everyone! I'm so sorry this chapter took me so long. I'm a senior in high school now, and I'm absolutely swamped with college applications and studying for the SAT (which has been cancelled last minute on me 4 times now) and trying to maintain my mental health on top of it all. But as always, writing this story offered an outlet for me to relax and have fun, and I hope it could make your day better too, even just a little bit. 
> 
> To my readers - you guys wholly own my heart. The comments on my last chapter had me crying. Seriously. Like, tears streaming down my face. I love y'all so so so so much that I can't even put it into words. I'm sorry that I left y'all hanging a bit, but this chapter is my longest yet and hopefully makes up for it! 
> 
> This chapter was more fluffy than it was angsty, and more progress was made! I think we'll meet Kie next chapter and start school soon, which is exciting. 
> 
> I wrote this whole thing while listening to The Surfaces and Jack Johnson, and I hope I carried that vibe out pretty well. The concept of Local Summer was inspired by my own home, where we have what we call Local Summer every year at the end of August/beginning of September, and I'm pretty sure it's safe to assume that most beachy towns have something of the sort. It's my favorite time of year. 
> 
> Anyway, sending positive energy everyone's way! If it was hard to get out of bed today, if you felt unproductive today, if you only got a little bit accomplished today, I'm proud of you. I love you. Keep going. 
> 
> As always, comments are more than welcome and make me the happiest person on earth. Until next time, take care <3


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